Anywhere But Here
by I'm Beth
Summary: AU. Characters from MI in an everyday high school life. Pointless crack & fluff. Clary/Jace Magnus/Alec Izzy/Simon/Mia


A/N: I haven't written and finished something this long in a very long time —or ever. It wasn't even supposed to be this long. At most, it should have been maybe six pages. It was supposed to be a cute little one-shot with lots of crack and fluff strikeand an excuse for me to write some pron of Magnus and Alec/strike. On Open Office, it's a little over twenty pages, and originally, it was thirty, but I pulled nearly half of it out cuz it was dragging on _way_ too long. I might make it into a second chapter, but only if I feel like people like it enough. I don't want to set a limit with comments cuz I can't keep a promise to myself to save my life.

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, all go the Cassandra Clare

Anywhere But Here

You may have heard the saying 'Listen to your her; you will soon learn to respect her as a teacher'. Jace Wayland was one of those people, and thought that the person who had said that, must have been a teacher, because no one else respects a teacher as much as a teacher.

Except maybe Alec, who, even now, was bent over his desk and scribbling notes down in his ratty old notebook, his nose almost touching the ink-stained paper. He, unlike Jace, took each and every class very seriously, (even art!) but Jace was counting on this slightly disturbing trait. If it wasn't for his knowledgeable-to-a-point-of-obsessive best friend's detailed notes, he might not pass all his classes with flying colors. It was an enigma to all the teacher, but with no proof that he was cheating, they couldn't do anything. But when they lectured about all the soul-damaging things cheating could do to you, they almost always stared at him the entire time. He made it a point to smile widely at them when this happened.

He didn't cheat because he was stupid, as his friend Alec, who, if he were telling this story, would be quick to reassure you at this point. He cheats because he has no incentive to pay attention during class, and would much rather go over Alec's notes, which were always crisp, tidy, and didn't drag on for one dreadful hour.

Jace started tapping his pencil on his desk, just to see how long and loud he could do it until the teacher humbled herself enough to acknowledge him. Alec's eyebrow twitched in frustration, but he ignored it. He ignored a lot of annoying things about Jace, mainly for the reason that he didn't want to get into a fight with him. And he didn't want to get into a fight with him because. . .

Alec sighed. He wanted to say it was because, even as children, Jace had won all their arguments. He wanted to say it was because a snooty, triumphant Jace was much better than a sulky, bitter one. He wanted to say it was because they were best friends, and though Jace had a million friends, he was the only one Alec had, and loosing him over something like pen-tapping would be ridiculous (sometimes, he thought he could feel Jace's attention slipping from him like a piece of gum that was stretched too far). All those things are contributing factor, but none are the main reason.

When the bell had finally rang, Jace, who was still, miraculously, detention-less, staggered out of the classroom with a mixture of grace and laziness, lacking both the scurrying and the skittering of the other students, parting around him so much like the red sea parts around Moses, the ones who actually had classes they needed to get to, while Jace and Alec, on the other hand, had lunch.

And just as Jace was turning the corner to hurry into the lunchroom (because he'd been complaining all morning of how malnourished he was) he saw a flop of messy brown hair that made his heart squeeze with sudden excitement. Because he knew who's red, curly hair almost always followed after it. With a grin, he started pushing through the crowd.

But when they reached Simon, there was no messy red-head next to him, and Jace's smile slipped right off his face. But, there were two girls next to Simon that —though neither were the one he's been hoping to see— he still knew very well. The first, the shortest of the three of them, was Mia. Her dark skin looked startling next to Simon's snowy, pale skin where she was clutching his wrist and reciting to him some dramatically exciting story; in which she used, not only her mouth, but her eyes, and shoulders, and hands, and hips, talking quickly and enthusiastically, Simon's loud guffaws only egging her on. On Simon's other side was Isabelle, Jace's adoptive sister, and Alec's biological one. She wore a pleasant smile to show Mia and Simon she was listening and was amused, but her eyes kept darting to Simon's face, waiting for his attention to slip from Mia for just the slightest second, for when it did, she would metaphorically pounce on him with stories and jokes of her own. It was rather like watching two children who wanted the same cookie, just waiting for the other to turn their back so they could snatch it, all the while smiling innocently at each other. Simon —poor, poor Simon— seemed none-the-wiser.

Disappointed, he found Alec already at the end of the hallway, waiting for him at the lunchroom door. If Clary wasn't with Simon, then, chances were, there was only one other person she'd be with.

And that was her brother.

Sebastian was, for lack of a better word, an asswipe. Try and convince the teachers of this, though. He was an absolute angel to them —completed all of his work on time, never talked or acted arrogant. He was a model student. The real Sebastian was a different story; Jace had met him for the first time a year ago, a few hours after he'd met Clary for the first time. He'd gone to Pandemonium (a filthy, sleazy club in the very heart of New York, which he, naturally, attended on a regular basis) with Alec and Isabelle, when he'd seen Clary sitting alone at the bar, and, well. . . one thing led to another and they ended up in a broom closet. . . getting to know each other. Sebastian had walked in a minute later and. . . well, he heard they still hadn't cleaned all of Jace's blood off the walls. (At this point, Jace winces and rubs at the mysterious scars on his arms that no one outside himself, Sebastian, Clary, and handful of nameless paramedics know the origin of) Jace had been reluctant to believe they were really related, because even though Clary had her fits sometimes, it was nothing compared to the number of scars Jace had received over the time he had known Sebastian.

With his fingers crossed, he walked into the lunchroom with Alec, praying that Clary would be with an everyday friend from class; that Sebastian had skipped today; that Clary had said she was going to ask out Jace Wayland (a.k.a. The Sexiest Piece of Ass Ever to Have Lived on God's Green Earth) and then had gotten angry when Sebastian had forbidden her from it (which was an inevitable outcome, considering that Sebastian _hated_ Jace), and was now avoiding her hulking terror-inspiring monster of a brother. No such luck; when Jace finally caught sight of Clary and Sebastian, they were sitting so close their shoulders touched.

The only time Sebastian wasn't kissing ass or killing people was when he was with Clary —it was a widely known fact that if you ever got on Sebastian's bad side and it was starting to look like he was about to turn you face into ground meat, all you had to do was fervently insist that Clary was right behind him, and he would turn as placid as a puppy.

A little stiff-backed, Jace and Alec went to sit down by the Morgenstern siblings. Sebastian looked up as they approached and scowled. He quickly turned Clary's attention elsewhere, as though proving to them they weren't wanted. Jace sat his books down on the table with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Clary looked up at him and grinned.

"Hey, Clary." Jace said as he sat down on her other side, ignoring her brother's prominent scowl. "We—" He cut off abruptly as he saw that Alec was still standing behind his usual seat, his books still clutched to his chest. He looked hesitant. "Alec? What's up?"

"I, ah. . ." Alec looked down at his scruffy sneakers, going red in the face. "I have to go talk to our old chem teacher."

Jace raised his eye brows. "You mean that one who used to tutor you? _That_ chem teacher?"

Alec still wouldn't meet his eyes, but he nodded.

"That guys a damn creeper." Jace snapped, horrible memories of last year chem were suddenly flooding before his eyes, and he shuddered.

"He's not!" Alec said passionately. "He may be a bit eccentric, but he's really smart. If it weren't for him, I'd have failed Bio."

He seemed to have realized what he'd said a minute after everyone else. His usually pale face was redder than ever as he ran away, clutching his books in front of his chest like a shield.

A second later, Simon, Mia, and Isabel turned up.

"What was wrong with Alec?" asked Isabel as she sat down next to Simon. "He looked like he's going to throw up."

". . . Mr. Bane?"

The fabulous chem teacher in question looked up when he heard his name being spoken, and almost immediately smiled upon seeing who it was. Alec Lightwood was standing in his doorway awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, eyes darting anywhere but to the man in front of him. It was easy to pretend that time had flow rapidly backwards over lunch, and he was back to last year, tutoring this handsome, lanky boy in more than just _distance divided by time equal speed_; but also a in wide variety of _oh-God-Mr-Bane-harder-please_'s.

"Well, well! I'm very pleased to at last be blessed with your presence, Mr. Lightwood. Please, take a seat." Alec had the good graces to look abashed, but instead of sitting, he walked foreword until he was mere inches away from the edge of Magnus's desk. Never breaking eye contact, he dropped his books on the corner of the cluttered desk.

"I'm sorry," Alec murmured, wondering idly why his mouth was so dry. "I don't think I properly . . . _thanked_ you for all you. . .t- taught me last year. I. . ." Why was he being so formal? Last year he would have ran in this room, thrown his book bag to some far, unseen corner of the room, and pounced in his teacher's lap. There was none of this uncertainty that was riddling his mind now.

And Magnus —cocky, beautiful Magnus— just sat there and watched him squirm with a moderately interested expression. "I'm not sure I understand your reasons for coming here today, Alexander," —_Oh, what? He was back to Alexander now?_— "but if you need more tutoring, I can give you the number of a good one I know—." He stops talking now and starts to rummage around in his desk drawers.

And at that moment, Alec found he couldn't stand it any more; he felt as though he was about to throw up or faint or both —and if that was the case, he hoped it would drown him because anything (even the uncertainty of death) would be better than the frantic shuttering of his heart. "_No_!" He cried, slamming his hands down on the desk in frustration. Magnus's eyes widened in surprise; the only other times he'd ever seen Alec so emotional was in the throws of passion. "I don't _want_ another tutor! I want _you_ to tutor me!" ('Tutor', in this dimension, is read as 'Fuck') Alec's tortured expression tore through Magnus like a knife. Those eyes were his biggest weak spot, they were his damnation. His big blue eyes pleaded with him, and his voice implored, "I want things to be like they used to be. I've _missed_ you. I miss _being_ with you." He leaned foreword, his desperate face an inch from Magnus's own flabbergasted one. "And I'm not just talking about the sex, either —I mean, I'm not saying I don't miss the sex, because, _God_, even now, I feel like I can barely keep myself from jumping you this very second— but it's not the only reason I'm here, is what I'm saying." He paused for breathe, then barreled on, not giving Magnus any chance to speak. "I mean, I miss _spending time_ with you. I miss doing things with you. I—." He cut off suddenly with a heart-wrenching sob, and dipped his head foreword, his messily cut, coarse black hair making a gloomy halo on the top of Magnus's desk, his shoulders shaking pitifully.

For once, Magnus had nothing to say. Well, that isn't strictly true —he had a lot of things to say, but just couldn't get his mouth to work. He felt like there was a huge lump in his throat that he couldn't force breath, much less words, past. He hadn't cried in a long time, so it took him a moment to identify the sensation.

"Damn it, Magnus," Alec gasped, still face down. "I love you _so much_. . . _please_, give me another chance. . . Let me prove it to you. I just —just please." Alec sniffed, and tried to discreetly wipe his eyes on his sleeve. _It's sad, really_, Magnus thought in utter shock. _Last year, this was me, and he was the one staring at me as though I'd started doing magic._ He couldn't help be wonder, though; what had changed?

Gently, Magnus placed a hand on top of Alec's head. He didn't move, and he showed no sign that he had noticed Magnus's thin, tan hand atop his head. He just continued to glare at Magnus's desktop and tried to control his erratic breathing. "Alright, Alec," This time, Alec's shoulders did jump slightly, but he still refused to look up. "Let's talk."

The things one did for friendship.

Jace was sure to repeat this phrase to his best friend when he next saw him —that was, if he ever saw him again. Jace had been having vivid flashback's to last year all day now, all concerning Alec's being tutored by the forever creepy Mr. Bane. He didn't smile, he leered. And he had tutored Alec last year. . . _all_ year. . . _all_ the time. . . _even during spring, fall, winter_ (and even some of summer) _break_.

Jace would have pondered over this for a while, but he was currently having a staring contest with his science teacher. For once, when he was telling the truth. . .

(Conversation from ten minutes earlier:

_"Mrs. Marshal, can I go get Alec? He went to go talk to a teacher during lunch and he still isn't back."_

_ "Well, Jonathon" —he hated it when they called him Jonathon, and they knew it— "I think it's Mr. Lightwood responsibility to keep track of time."_

_ "You know Alec's never late. He wouldn't be out of class unless he had some important body part that he had a problem with cutting off caught in a bear trap." Here, they stare at each other in silence, until Jace just can't hold it back anymore. "Like his . . . writing arm."_

_ "Jonathon, do you honestly think he's hurt?"_

_ "Yes, I believe that is a possibility."_

_ "What teacher did he go to see?"_

_ "Mr. Bane."_

_ ". . .I see." Which, or course, changed things._)

So there they stood, each contemplating the other cautiously. Jace's eye's blazing with determination, Mrs. Marshal's with traces of hesitation, as possibilities of what it might mean if you went to see Mr. Bane and didn't come back. Finally she sighed and rolled her eyes, as though she was just humoring him on a silly request just to get him out of her hair, but Jace could tell by the look in her eye that she was now a little concerned for Alec as well. He had always been a bit of a teacher's pet. "Alright, you may go. But be quick about it; we have a test in a few minutes."

Jace had always enjoyed walking down the hallways during class. It was quiet and peaceful, and as he passed by bustling classrooms, he could hear snippets of lessons being taught, and sometimes catch bits and pieces of movies. Sometimes, he popped in the classrooms of the really nice teachers to distract them from their regularly scheduled plans.

Mr. Bane's classroom was on the complete opposite side of the school, and needless to say, he took his sweet time getting there. Mr. Bane's class was impossible to miss, the doorknob (instead of being the boring, copper orb everyone else had) was a black star, that shone like oil as you passed it. And above the door, his name plaque read:

Mr. Bane

The Magnificent Teacher of Chemistry

538

Jace didn't even have the stomach to glare at it. So instead, he simply pushed it open and walked inside. . .

_Flashback~_

_Alec had nearly cried with relief when he'd seen he had at least one class with Jace. He had none with Izzy, and the isolation of only having three kids from your old elementary school in class to smile sadly at you was starting to wear on his already frayed nerves._

_ When he walked into Chemistry 1, four minutes before the bell rang, he saw Jace was already there, chatting with some kids in the corner of the room. It was strange, because, even though he'd lived with Jace all his life, he suddenly felt very abandoned by him. Awkwardly, he sat his stuff down on a desk near Jace's, suddenly remembering reading in a book somewhere of a older brother who had made his younger promise to leave him alone at school. Would it be the same for them? Technically, they weren't even really related, but Jace might still be embarrassed about him. Alec, having terrified himself thoroughly enough by this point, had just about turned tail to spend the rest of the hour in the bathroom, when Jace turned to him and smiled, realizing he was there suddenly. "Hey, Alec! You had Ms. Robins, right? I heard she was a real bitch."_

_ With a smile, they dissolved into the comfortable fashion of insulting teachers and whining about homework on the first day of school. "I heard this teacher is a real—." Jace cut off abruptly when the door suddenly burst open, making the entire class go silent, then chuckle nervously at their own nervousness, and _he_ came in._

_ Jace was sure teacher's weren't allowed to wear that much glitter. Or black vinyl pants that were _way_ too tight._

_ When Jace turned to Alec to make a snarky comment on their teachers attire, he found he couldn't force the words out. Alec looked. . . absolutely petrified. And a little green. And a little red. Subconsciously, Alec touched the back of his hand, seeming to forget momentarily that they were in a classroom full of other kids. He stared at Mr. Bane as if he were the only living being in the entire world, but that only living being was a mass murderer. It wasn't a god look. He was scared; that least was apparent by looking at him._

_ "My name is Magnus. Bane," The glittery teacher proclaimed loudly, his lilting voice washing over the stunned class light salty sea waves. He wrote it on the white board in big, curvy, cursive letters. "I will be teaching you little futures of tomorrow chemistry." He looked around the room with appraising eyes, smiling broadly. "I can't wait to get to know each and every one of you. . ." He trailed off, tilting his body backwards, leaning back to stare out the open doorway. The class turned in their seats, and was just able to catch the last of Mrs. Herondale, the principle, as she disappeared around the corner. The smile dropped off Mr. Bane's face._

_ "Thank God," He sighed, falling back into his chair with a groan. It's now that Alec notices that Mr. Bane can't be more than twenty years old. "I've had to put up with that hawk trailing me all day. Apparently, I'm not to be trusted with young and mold-able minds." He looked at the class again, his gaze dry. "Look, I'm hung over. My head hurts, my feet hurt, my a—." He stopped as though he suddenly remembered we were there. "Never mind. Look, I don't care what you do, make a call, text, play video games, I really don't give a shit." He sighed placed his long fingers over his eyes. "We'll start class tomorrow. Just, _please_, be quiet."_

_ And so it went on like that, and Mr. Bane was soon the most popular teacher in the school, and also the most hated._

_ "He's so fucking strict." Simon had griped one day after he found out his grade in the class. "I miss one assignment —one _fucking_ assignment— and he drags me down an entire letter grade! It's complete horse shit." He stuffed a handful of french fries in his mouth and glares at the far wall. Jace, for once, agreed with Simon: Mr. Bane _was_ a strict teacher, but that wasn't what had put him off about the guy. It was more the fact that he seemed to want to bone his best friend._

_ Now, Jace hadn't been sure at first. And he had waited at long time before coming to this conclusion, but they were halfway to the next semester, and he was pretty sure._

_ It wasn't like they were panting after each other during class, or anything; it was more subtly than that. The first sign had been when Alec had just started. . . _staring_ at Mr. Bane. He didn't exactly ignore Jace, but when he opened up one of the notes he had been passed, his expression showed more irritation than amusement. Alec watched the way he moved in front of the class, ate up every word he said. And when Mr. Bane directed a question at Alec, he would walk over and lean on the edge of his desk, which he never did with anyone else, as far as he'd seen. It made Alec's face go very red, and he'd start to stammer and trip over his words. And we can't forget that first day, either:_

_ "Alexander, could you stay after class?"_

_ Jace turned on his friend, stunned, not only that Alec had done something devious without him, but also that, well, Alec had done something devious. It was completely out of character for his mellow friend. Especially on the first day. Cupping a hand around his mouth, Jace mouthed _What did you do?

_ "Who knows?" Alec had whispered back, unconvincingly. He'd started to sweat buckets at some point during class, perhaps when Mr. Bane had explained the grading system (Some other kids surely did. And over the next week, the number of students attending that class started to drop dramatically.) but more likely it had been when they'd made eye-contact across the room, and their teacher had let out a loud and unashamed guffaw._

_ Jace had left class that day, very confused, and slightly disturbed._

_ And, when he met up with Alec after school (because Mr. Bane's class had been their last) and after he'd returned from room 538 (which would, in time, be dubbed 'Hell') he looked like a changed man._

_ Which was troubling._

Jace's first thought, upon pushing the door open, was a little ridiculous, as first thoughts usually are. The first thing he thought was that they were having sex, but, seeing as this was an impossibility of comprehension and. . . _sanity_, his mind scrambled for Option Two, and he came up with: Alec got eraser shavings stuck in his throat in the middle of conjugating verbs and started to choke, and Mr. Bane, being the responsible teacher that he was, promptly tossed everything off his desk and threw Alec on his back to give the poor choking child CPR. His third thought, after a moment of staring at the entangled, moaning couple, was: _HOLY FUCKING SHIT THEY'RE HAVING SEX MY BEST FRIEND IS HAVING SEX WITH MY TEACHER AND SMACKING HIS HEAD AROUND THAT DESK LIKE HE WANTS A CONCUSION AND MY TEACHER IS JERKING OFF MY BEST FRIEND WHILE POUNDING HIM INTO THE DESK PROBABLY WITH THE INTENTION OF SNAPPING HIM AT THE WAIST OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!_

And it was at that moment that Alec, who's head had been lolling backwards off the desk in pleasure (It should be known, at this point, that when we say 'pounding him into the desk probably with the intention of snapping him at the waist', we mean they are having wild monkey sex on top of ungraded tests), caught sight of his best friend, and Alec could see, even upside down, that he was slightly (and by slightly, we mean very) green. "_Jace_! What the fuck? Get out!"

"I don't think you're in the position to be making demands, Alexander." Jace croaked in a dead sort of way. "I never knew you bottomed, but I suppose—."

_"GET OUT!"_

Jace got out.

It was silent in the classroom for a few moments, the only sounds coming from Alec and Magnus's ragged throats, their pants matching in tempo and beat. For Alec, whether it was from screaming at Jace like he'd never screamed at anyone before, or from being "pounded into the desk probably with the intention of snapping him at the waist", no one will ever know.

"We should probably get up now." Alec finally gasped out, still very aware that Magnus had not moved out of him yet.

"I don't know," Magnus purred with an evil smile on his face. "I'd say we still have got a few minutes. You don't have to confront him now, you know. You could put it off for—."

At that point, Jace called threw the door, "If you two are still going at it, I have no problem going and getting that gun out of my locker."

"You know," Mangus drawled, still on top of Alec and refusing to let him up. "I may be _screwing_ your friend," He emphases this point by moving, just a little, inside of Alec and making him squirm and moan, in a way that makes Jace, outside the door, squirm and moan, but for entirely different reasons. "but that doesn't mean I'm not still a teacher; I could have you expelled for that, if not for the threatening the teacher thing, then at least for the gun thing." Alec squawked indigently.

"You're right," Murmured Jace after a silent, tense second. "You are still a teacher. . ."

_Oh, hell,_ Magnus thought with an exaggerated sigh. _He's got me there. _With a heave, he rolled off of Alec and pulled out of him in one swoop, and Magnus was sure Jace had heard Alec groan of pleasure and loss through the door, and the thought nearly made it all worth it.

Alec sat up on Magnus's desk, his thighs trembling slightly. His face was red and his eyes were slightly watery, signs that he too though Jace had heard his groan of pleasure through the door. "It hurts if you haven't done it in a while." Magnus murmured against Alec's still flushed cheek.

"I could have guessed that." Alec whispered, as though he was afraid Jace might over-hear them. "But," He looked down, his face reddening for an entirely different reason now. "I think it's worth it."

Magnus smiled. "I promise to make up for all the lost time later tonight." Alec squawked again, but Magnus just laughed and walked past him and opened the door. (Alec gasped and started to struggle into his clothes) Jace stood so close to it that Alec was sure he'd been eavesdropping. His face was still pale, but no longer green. "He's all yours." He told Jace, then seemed to reconsider. "Well, he's partly mine now. . . but you know what I meant." And then Magnus was gone, probably to get lunch before all the Parmesan pizza was gone (If he had known that Alec had harbored a secret, semi-crush on this boy since he was old enough to understand the concept of 'gay', then he probably would not have left them alone in a room together so merrily) and then Alec and Jace were alone. The silence seemed to congeal around them, making it hard to breath. They refused to meet each others' eyes for a very long time.

Then, with a great big sigh, Jace sat down on a desk in the front and faced Alec with a strained expression. "Alright," He said through clenched teeth. "Now tell me exactly why I shouldn't call the cops right now."

"Mrs. Marshal, please, calm down!"

The entire science class had crowded around their sobbing teacher's desk, patting her on the back and murmuring words of encouragement. Mia (who was her favorite student on account of the fact that she was taking a class one grade above her own; Mrs. Marshal adored over-achievers) was rubbing her shoulders and speaking in a sweet, sympathetic voice. "Ma'am, Jace skips all the time, at least you know he'll do the work. That's more than you can say for a lot of the kids who attend class everyday."

"_Y- Y- You don't underst- st- stand_!" She cried into her arms. "_They st- still aren't back_! _Wh- Who knows what he's doing to th- them_?!" This thought was apparently to unbearable to stand, for it sent her into a renewed state of hysteria. The members of the class looked at each other in puzzlement.

Simon, who had glanced up when the teacher had stopped howling long enough to talk, rolled his eyes and looked back down to his cell phone. He'd taken advantage, as some others had, in the momentary lax in supervision to start texting Clary, who's class was on the other side of school. With a ping, he saw she'd answered his last text. _Is Jace really not in class?_

Simon rolled his eyes again. Clary abhorred texting, and he abhorred the way she insisted on doing it; with perfect grammar. It took her long enough to text as it was, be with the additional letters and capitalization, it took about ten minutes each time. He wrote, _txt lk a reel prsn & ys_

Nine minutes passed before he heard the tell-tale ping again. _What?_

He sighed, and began punching in her number. She answered on the second ring. She sounded irritated.

"Are you an idiot? You're lucky our teacher just walked out of the room to get out test results, or my phone would have been confiscated, and then we all would have been screwed."

"I don't see how that would screw me." Simon drawled, leaning back in his chair to make sure the teacher was still having a fit. All clear.

"Obviously, I would have been forced to kill you. And then I would go to prison, on top of not having a phone."

"I don't know," Simon grinned, sending Mia a sympathetic smile, which she simply returned by looking baffled and shrugging her shoulders. "I think in this state, they'd just go ahead and give you the death sentence." He checked the clock. If this went on, they might not do anything all day. "Anyway, this is your fault. If you could text worth shit I wouldn't of had to call you."

He heard Clary sigh on the other end of the phone. They'd had this Texting Conversation many times already, and she obviously didn't feel like having it now. "Whatever. And you never answered my question."

"You mean the one about if I was crazy?" Simon mocked. "I believe the answer to that one you already know. I am, obviously."

"Yeah, I knew that." She snapped at him, but he knew she wasn't really upset. When Clary was upset, her voice got very cold and serious, not sharp and peeved like it was now. This, he could deal with easily, but he couldn't take her being angry at him. Not really angry, anyway. But pissing her off was always fun. "And I believe I asked if you were an idiot, but the answer to that would be the same, now wouldn't it? I was talking about Jace."

Simon smiled. Wasn't she always, now-a-days? "Yeah, he's not here. His stuff's at his desk, though." Simon glanced at said stuff, feeling as though it should be covered in a thin layer of dust. "The teacher is acting as though he's dead."

"Is that why she's freaking out?"

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't really make sense, does it?"

"Do _you_ know where Jace is?"

"How should _I_ know?"

"Well, where could he have gone? He may be a slacker, but he really doesn't skip class that often. He's probably just making out with Aline Penhallow in the janitor's closet." You'd of had to of known known Clary as long as Simon had to detect the note of bitter sarcasm in his voice. Clary had caught Jace and Aline eating face at Pandemonium last week. As far as he knew, neither of them had mentioned it, at least not to each other's face, but every time Clary saw or heard the name Aline Penhallow, she scowled furiously. Clary wasn't the type to hate someone, so this new development scared him as much as if she'd been sobbing as hysterically as his science teacher was currently.

"Jace, _please_ calm down."

"Oh no, Alec," Jace said, his voice still creepily calm, but thin like ice. "I think the time for being calm has passed. I think the time for asking you 'what the fuck' has arrived."

Alec smiled a smile that was more of a grimace and wondered if he could make a dive for the door. Sweat started to bead on his forehead. _Please, Lord, just strike me down where I stand —I know I deserve this, but I've learned my lesson, so please, just kill me already._ Glumly, Alec waited for divine justice, but when none came, he sighed, turned and sat down next to Jace in one of the desks.

"So," Jace said stoically, staring straight ahead the entire time. "Explain this to me in a way that doesn't incriminate your . . ." He turned to Alec, to sneer nastily. ". . . _lover_."

And that was all it took to set off the fuse in Alec's brain. Angers sizzled through his veins as he looked at the boy he knew he'd never hurt intentionally. "I like him." Alec stating plainly, and only someone like Jace, who had know Alec nearly all his life, could detect the note of repressed hostility there. "And I might just love him— and don't you give me that look, Jace." He snapped. "You don't even know him."

"And you do?" Snapped Jace, the sneer back on his face. "Has it ever crossed your mind that he's just using you? _God_, Alec, you're so naive sometimes!"

"Yeah, I do know him. A lot better than you, so don't go making assumption about him based on nothing. Just because you have to think the worst of everyone all the time doesn't mean you're always right about them." Alec matched Jace's scowl for one of his own; equal in ferocity and annoyance. "He tutored me last year, remember? We spent a lot of time together— oh, _quit looking at me like that_! It's not like we had sex all the time, but yeah, this isn't our first time." _Where'd all this anger come from_, Alec wondered vaguely. Perhaps after years of being ignored and in the closet, one just kind of explodes. . .

Jace stood up, his chair clattering and screeching against the floor behind him, but not falling over. Alec wondered if Jace had been trying to knock it over dramatically. "Alec, _you trust people too easily_! He could be _married_ for all you know!" He spit the word _married_ like it was venom, meant to burn a hole through Alec's heart, or whatever it was that was blinding him from the truth. "He could have kids —they may even be our age!"

Alec stood up as well, fists shaking and eyes stinging. "I know he's not married!"

"How?!" Jace spat back.

"Because I've been to his house and there wasn't any other stuff there!"

Jace scoffed. "That doesn't—." He stopped suddenly, as Alec's words slowly processed through his subconscious. Then, ever so quietly, he asked, "You've been to his house?"

Alec, realizing a second too late what he'd let slip, blushed and turned away, studying the poster that encouraged perseverance instead. "Yeah, so what? I mean," His voice almost broke as something a little like shame swarmed through his brain. Almost. "It's not like we just did it here all the time. That would be disgusting." Noticing Jace's blank face (that was actually his default expression for unimaginable horror) he felt the need to explain. "The janitor's, they, uh. . . you know, only clean up around here once a week, so. . ."

It didn't really make any sense, and no one —not even them— would be able to explain it to you, but for some reason, that was the last straw, and suddenly, the whole situation was pretty damn funny. Alec and Jace fell foreword, hands on knees, cackling loudly and wiping tears away from the corners of their eyes. They were friends again now, a fact that is usually obscured by smugness, or a too daring suggestion, or a scathing look. Because they really are friends, and if it doesn't make sense to anyone else, then it doesn't really matter, and they can always end a day together, bent over at the waist and laughing and grasping at each others shoulders for leverage back into a normality that makes more sense, if not to them, but to the people who look at them and wonder how a lion and a mouse came to be such good friends.

Eventually, they fell to the floor, still chuckling amusedly, (honestly, they were giggling, but as they had been taught at a young age, giggling was for girls and chuckling was for men) arms around each others shoulders. Jace started to say something, but still couldn't breathe well enough to utter a single syllable.

"Alright," Jace was finally able to force out, trying and failing to fix Alec with a solemn face. "Why don't you tell me everything. From the beginning."

If Isabelle didn't stop incessantly tapping her heel like that, Clary decided after nearly thirty minutes of listening to the sound without screaming, someone was going to loose an eye. But Clary, being docile at best and blood-thirsty at worst, squelched the violent impulse with a harmless smile that she hoped Isabelle would interpret as "stop-tapping-this-instance-or-suffer-horribly". But Isabelle just smiled back at her and continued tapping. _Damn._ Clary made a mental note to practice her Jedi mind powers on Simon more after school.

But as it stood now, Simon was likely to be spending his after school hours with Raphael and his gang of "we're-not-goths-we're-vampires-god-dammit". This was probably the cause of Isabelle's tapping foot (Mia had already taken the bus home, and, therefore, had no idea her dearest Simon was being perved on by the leader of the "no-seriously-guys-we're-not-goths"s). They'd been waiting for Jace and Alec for about twenty minutes, and had just decided to ditch them when the familiar smell of expensive cologne and (mysteriously enough) blood wafted into their horrified noses. _This will just take but a moment_, Raphael had assured them as he pulled an unwilling Simon away to discuss things Clary probably never wanted to hear her best friend discussing. At the other end of the hall, three moderately un-skinny guys from Raphael's group of "you-call-us-goth-one-more-time-and-I'll-drink-your-blood-and-rape-you-and-make-you-love-it", glaring at them like they were going to attack their leader with a stake and holy water. (Around school, they were known as the bodyguards, most likely because they'd beat a kid within an inch of his life last year for scuffing Raphael's fancy shoes.) Raphael wasn't really gay. . . at least, no one thought so. He'd never shone any interest in a guy before, and he'd had a gaggle of girlfriends over the years, but. . .

("Simon," Raphael insisted in a voice that sounded teasing until you caught sight of his face. "If you do not willingly come to my house this weekend then I will plant your severed head on a spike outside my door to tell the story of what happens when you deny me what I want.")

But.

"I see Simon won't be walking home with us," Clary whipped around at the sound of the horribly familiar voice, maybe just a little to eagerly to be considered cool. Jace and Alec stood behind them like they'd been there the whole time; Jace, the asshole, had his backpack hanging casually over one shoulder and his hands in his pockets, like he hadn't kept them waiting (Clary checked her watch) forty-three minutes. Alec looked as disinterested as usual, and offered Clary a small smile and nod, before looking back down at his sneakers, a little too thoughtfully to be considered normal behavior. Even though, there was something in the way he held his shoulders that looked a little relieved, like a great weight had been lifted from them. He looked almost peaceful. Clary looked at Jace, an eyebrow raised delicately in question, but Jace just smiled and winked like only assholes could.

"We should probably go fetch him before we get a cat fight on our hands." Jace suggested walking past Clary with that easy grace that could brake a girls heart as quickly as it could steal it. Alec sighed and leaned back against a wall, perhaps exhausted at the thought of trying to tear Simon out of Isabelle and Raphael's grabbing claws, but more likely out of relief that Jace was gone and he could drop his armor for a second and relax.

"You okay?" Clary asked a little awkwardly. Her and Alec had never been particularly close, even when she'd learned his secret —that may have even driven them farther apart. Alec had assured he was in no way a competitor for Jace's affections, to which she'd sputtered and denied in a very unconvincing way. At first she'd thought he'd just been lying, but after last year, she could almost make herself belief that she'd just imagined what Alec had said to her nearly two years ago today.

Alec smiled again and laughed a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just feeling a little. . ." His gaze wandered to where Jace and Isabelle stood arguing. His face turned a little green. "Nauseous."

Clary probably would have asked him more about it, but at that moment, but Jace materialized behind her at that moment, with a cursing Simon slung over one shoulder and a triumphet looking Izzy trailing behind him. "Let's get out of here before he calls in the calvery." He set Simon down non-too-gently and slung his arm over Clary's shoulders. "Let's go to you'r house and you can tutor me in World History."

Clary frowned. "You'r not even takung World History this year."

Jace leered. "Which is why we'll get really distracted half-way through."

With a grunt that spoke a hundred words of _sexist pig_ and _horn dog_, Clary pushed out from under his arm and whipped out her cell phone to call her brother. She passed Alec, who was pushing himself up and looking a little cheerier than before; and out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips move, curving into a smile around words she pretended not to hear.

_You two really are good for each other._


End file.
